Werewolf Noses
by Survivah
Summary: The Stilinskis had a "mountain lion problem" when Stiles was a kid. Now, Stiles just has a Derek... well, not "problem" exactly... Sterek oneshot.
1. Chapter 1

So, I've never actually watched the show... but the fanfiction is really compelling and I couldn't resist, so here. Forgive me for questionable canon.

XXXXX

Stiles knows a few things about werewolf noses. He considers himself basically an expert at this point, considering how much time he spends in their company. He knows that their noses are like, really super sensitive and can tell when he changes his deodorant, or when Allison switches to a different shampoo (seriously though, Scott, shut up about her hair already. It's getting creepy.) But Stiles also knows that werewolf noses, contrary to popular belief, aren't always accurate. Werewolves are people too (and doesn't that sound like something that should be written on a big protest sign at a rally somewhere,) and they make mistakes. Like, Stiles has seen Scott pull faces and wave his hands around in frustration for a good five straight minutes before he can finally name what he's smelling. _No man, it's, like, kind of bitter, it's... ahhh... it's right at the tip of my tongue. Nose. Seriously dude it's so weird. Cinnamon! No... ngh... Oh! Oh! New cleaning supplies! Like, uh, uh, chemicals and dirt. God, that's terrible. _

The point is, werewolf noses are very very cool, but werewolves can be very very stupid. And normally, when Stiles is talking about stupid werewolves, he's talking about Scott (in the most affectionate way, of course,) but in this story, he's talking about Derek. Stupid, stupid, very attractive, stupid Derek.

XXXXX

When Stiles was little, his house had a bit of a mountain lion problem. It was weird, because none of his neighbors had the same problem, but it was the only explanation that his parents, plus the animal control guys, could come up with. It wasn't even a problem, really. "Problem" sounds so dire, like, "you have a problem, we're sending you to rehab," or "he's your problem, you try to get him to calm down and take his Adderall," but in this case, it was more of a "hmm, where are all of these claw marks on the side of our house coming from, this is kind of a problem" sort of thing. No big deal.

Okay, sort of a big deal, because they don't exactly pay Sheriffs the big bucks, and his mom hadn't worked since he was born, and there were kind of some pretty serious gouges on the side of the house, which were seriously devaluing the property or something, and kind of expensive to keep filling in when once a month or so the mountain lion would come back and scratch them in again.

But Stiles hadn't minded. His little six year old brain had thought it was cool. It probably had something to do with all of those "a boy and his dog" books he'd been reading, but he would sometimes look out of his window at night, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Mountain Lion of Legend so that he could run downstairs and tame it and then run around with his super cool mountain lion friend that Jackson could totally never make fun of because mountain lions are really cool, okay. It would be great, just like in his books, except without the part where the dog/mountain lion died, because that part always sucked.

And the mountain lion had always felt like _his_, too. The claw marks always ended up underneath _his_ bedroom window, scraping little criss crosses into the plaster there. Sure, it was a floor below his bedroom because that was how two story houses worked, but it was close enough, okay? The marks were always under his window, enough that his parents sat him down one day and asked if he was leaving the mountain lion food. Stiles wasn't, but then he realized what a totally awesome idea that would be, and started leaving bags of chips on the ground outside his window.

The mountain lion never ate them, though. It was weird, because the Stilinskis would still get churned up dirt and a clawed up house every month or so, but the little baggies would remain undisturbed, like the mountain lion had decided it was too cool for Doritos.

The Mountain Lion Problem (that Stiles maintained wasn't really a problem) carried on for years. Mornings of the Sheriff walking outside every few weeks to sigh and shake his head at the new gouges in his perfectly nice house, and nights of Stiles sneaking outside to lovingly replace the bag of chips in case the mountain lion changed its mind and decided it was hungry, (it never occurred to Stiles to try a different food because come on, Doritos were like, the best thing ever) carried on and on. It was a fact of life, as real as Stiles being hyper, and Scott being his BFF, and his mom being underground.

Until a time came when the Sheriff walked along the side of the house and mentioned offhandedly, "There haven't been any new claw marks in almost a year. Might actually be worth it to fix it up properly now."

Stiles looked at the wall too, and with a pang, realized his father was right. The mountain lion visits were infrequent enough that he hadn't really noticed them petering off, but it was true. There hadn't been any newly smashed plants or displaced dirt or scraped siding for a long time. And Stiles suddenly missed it badly.

"Probably died or something," the Sheriff mused. "Or maybe we've got some poachers out in the reserve."

Stiles missed it very very badly.

XXXXX

Laura would make fun of Derek. A lot. He would grumble something under his breath in reply, and pretend he didn't care, but it got under his skin.

Her favorite topic for teasing, back Before, was Derek's behavior on full moons.

"What kind of dumbass can't smell his way home after a run? Yikes D, somebody's missing a few screws," she would chuckle in her scratchy voice.

It wasn't that he couldn't smell his way home, Derek wanted to say, but could never quite find the words. It was that there were one too many places that smelled like Home. Was it his fault that, moon-sick and following instinct and his nose alone, he was led to somewhere that smelled like Home? No. That was perfectly normal werewolf behavior. It was just that he was led to the wrong Home.

It was uncanny, really. Two houses so rarely smell that similar. Yet it was too often that Derek found himself scratching away at a little two story in the middle of Beacon Hills proper, trying to get inside, before he realized that it wasn't his house. The family that lived there probably cooked a lot of the same food as his family, Derek reasoned. Rosemary chicken and fruit salads, and smoked beef on alternate Fridays. That, and they used an air freshener that smelled so perfectly like the woods he didn't know how they could have done it without just bottling forest air and releasing it in the house. And the family must have also had a lot of the same furniture, and used the same shampoo his father did, or...

Well, alright. Derek understood how incredibly strange it was that the little house on Greenwood Boulevard smelled exactly like Home, but it did. It did, and it was perfectly understandable that he ran there on full moons, because werewolves always move towards Home after their runs, and the place smelled like Home. Take that Laura. Besides, he always got to his real Home eventually.

Until his real Home turned black and charred, and he couldn't be in the same state with it anymore.

XXXXX

"Derek, dude," Stiles said from his spot on the couch, not moving his eyes from the TV screen, where Batman was doing that thing where he broods and wears black and oh my god, Derek is totally Batman but anyway, "Do you ever think it's weird how much time you spend at my house? Not that I'm like, hinting for you to leave, because you just got here, and the Joker hasn't even done that thing with the pencil yet, but you know you're here like, every day, right?"

"Is it a problem?" Derek asked, raising one of his mega eyebrows. Dammit, that should make him look like a douchebag, but instead he just looks handsomely aloof. Is that a thing? With Derek it is.

"Problem. Hah! Sorry, inside joke with myself. No, it's not a problem, not now that you and my dad are like bros, but I'm just saying."

Derek looked slightly uncomfortable. "I like it here."

Stiles turned to look at Derek. Batman could wait (sorry Batman,) because Derek never said he liked things. It was like the guy was afraid he'd jinx it. "Is it my fabulous heart-healthy home cooked meals?"

"No."

"My own scintillating presence?"

"...No."

"Dereeeekk. Come oooonnnn. Enlighten me. Is it the new furniture setup? Because I googled some feng shui stuff, and while I'm not sure I have the northeast corner working properly, there should definitely be some kind of sweet chi flow or something happening in here-"

"No. Just... it smells nice."

Interesting. And Batman was getting paused (sorry Batman.)

"Nice?" Stiles asked. "What does this place smell like to a werewolf?"

Derek shifted, staring at Christian Bale's unmoving face on the screen. "It smells like a lot of things. Just... kind of homey."

"That's so cute."

"Shut up."

So obviously Derek wasn't going to say anything else, he had that chiseled jaw locked up tight, so Stiles switched the Dark Knight back on. But see, Stiles had never been great at concentrating, so he got to thinking about "home," and something Isaac once told Stiles about the time Derek told him that a wolf tends to head home after a good run on a full moon. Instinct and whatnot. Which got Stiles thinking about how if his house was "home" and full moons were once a month, and werewolves had claws, and his house would get claw marks once a month that stopped around the time of the Hale house fire and holy shit. Holy shit this should have been way more obvious.

"Holy shit Derek!" Batman got paused again. (Sorry Batman.)

"What, what?" Derek looks at Stiles, startled.

"You were our mountain lion problem!"

"What?"

"Oh don't look at me like that, Der-Der-"

"Don't call me Der-Der"

"You like it. Seriously though, I totally bet that you were the one who kept scratching my poor house up!"

Derek looked sort of like he'd been caught. God that was adorable. And rare. Today was just a day for rare Derek reactions. RDRs. Stiles could be like a scientist, carefully causing and documenting RDRs... but anyway.

"I... it wasn't on purpose," Derek grumbled. "And I didn't know it was your house at the time."

"I'm not mad at you dude, just like... woah. Mountain lions are never mountain lions in Beacon Hills. It's kind of ridiculous."

Derek grunted and nodded. "Turn the movie back on."

Stiles did. With a very satisfied expression. He'd totally tamed that mountain lion after all. Who cared if it was never really a mountain lion?

XXXXX

Derek stands outside of an innocuous white door in an innocuous beige apartment building. Stiles' new apartment. Stiles living on his own. It was so weird, Stiles all grown up. Eighteen, college, apartment of his own. Not that far from home, but still. Stiles as an adult. Of consenting age. Did this make Derek's crush not creepy anymore? Immaterial. Crush it.

Derek knocks, and Stiles opens the door with that wide grin that makes him look about twelve. "Derek! Welcome to my palace! You're lucky, you get to have the full tour without Scott -he's my roommate, you've probably heard of him- getting in the way."

"I can't believe I've been living here two months and you still haven't seen the place! So weird dude. Speaking of weird, did you know that Scott has this, like, Allison shrine in his room? Now that his mom can't see his room, he has this whole wall of pictures with pictures of her, and I'm like dude, stalker behavior, but whatever. So, that's the kitchen corner, and that's the living room corner, and then there's the den corner. That door's my bedroom, that one's Scott's, that's the bathroom, you really don't want to see it, trust me- Der-Der, why do you have that weird look on you face?"

Derek has stopped listening to Stiles speaking, and he just breathes in the smell of Home. That isn't right. Stiles' house smells like Home, through some strange twist of coincidence. Stiles apartment shouldn't smell like Home. But it does.

This is a big deal. A fantastic, horrible, wonderful, shocking, terrifying deal. Because this means it wasn't Stiles' house that smelled like Home this whole time. It was Stiles. And Derek was raised in a proper werewolf family. He knows what it means when a _person_ smells like Home.

It means a few very significant things about mates. And it means that Derek's creepy crush is totally justified, and totally more than a crush.

XXXXXX

Stiles isn't sure what the bee in Derek's bonnet is, but he decides that it is a very nice bee, because suddenly Derek is smiling, and god, that's nice.

Oh, and now he's being bodily picked up and pressed into the lumpy plaid Craigslist couch.

And getting nuzzled.

And now Derek's face is on his face and this is very very nice.


	2. Chapter 2

So, this was supposed to be a complete one-shot, but then I got all of these reviews and favorites and _follows_, and I can't let down those people who _followed_, like they might get _updates_, so, you know, update. Probably the last one, because this is just a random piece of fluff attached to an already complete story, but yeah. What can I say? I'm a sucker for compliments.

XXXXXX

"Wait, I can hear you but I can't see you? Where are you?"

"Hang on sweetie, I think I just need to- aha! Is that better?"

Scott smiles in relief as Allison's beautiful face materializes in the chat window. "There you are. I missed you."

"I missed you too baby," she says, adjusting her camera so the feed is more squarely on her face. "What's up? How's the roommate?"

Scott sighs tremendously and flops his shaggy head into his arms. "I think you mean _roommates_."

Her perfect eyebrows rise in confusion. "Did you and Stiles have somebody else move into your apartment? Who? Why? Where are they even sleeping, I thought it was a two bedroom?"

"It's Derek," Scott groans, "he's in our apartment, like all the time now that he and Stiles finally got a clue."

"I thought you were glad about that?"

"_I was_, but that was before Stiles and Derek decided they were gonna be the most sickeningly cute couple in the existence of ever!"

Allison chuckles. "They can't be that bad. There's a girl in my dorm whose boyfriend leaves roses in the hall leading up to her room every single time they have a date. Compared to that, Stiles and Derek are nothing."

"Oh, Allison," Scott moans in distress, "you have no idea. They cannot keep their hands off of each other. Stiles gets up to get popcorn from the kitchen when they're watching a movie, and Derek goes with him, Stiles' nose itches, Derek scratches it. I'm pretty sure they even go to the bathroom together, and I have no idea why they would want to-" Scott pauses, mouth freezing in horror. "I don't want to think about it, oh god I don't want to think about it, I'd been wondering why they were taking so long..."

Scott had hoped, back when it all first started, that Stiles and Derek wouldn't be too into PDA. He was glad Stiles had finally gotten what he wanted and all, but after the first time he'd walked into their apartment and found Stiles and Derek wrapped up on the couch, trying to cuddle their way into a two person pretzel, Scott had honestly felt more awkward than supportive. Stiles is practically his brother. Scott doesn't want to see all of that. But _since_ Stiles is practically his brother, Stiles also doesn't care what Scott has to say about him and Derek, and cuddles to his heart's content.

It's not watching Stiles get all up close and personal with somebody that's the most weird, though, (Stiles has always been a fairly huggy guy,) it's watching Derek. Derek, Scott's Alpha, nuzzling his way into the crook of Stiles' neck with a private little smile. Derek with the leather jacket and scowl kissing Stiles' cheek and whispering romantic little nothings into his ear that _Scott can totally hear, thank you very much, he's a werewolf and is definitely not deaf just because he's on the other side of the coffee table_. For god's sake, it's Derek with the broody past and penchant for angst grinning from ear to ear when he play-tackles Stiles into their lint covered carpet. _Gotcha, he whispered, and Stiles giggled -giggled!- and said something about him being the one to tame the mountain lion, which Scott totally didn't understand. _

"And they've got all of these inside jokes already too, and whenever one of them brings it up, they just make goo-goo eyes at each other and look at me meaningfully like they want me to leave so they can just- ah! No, don't want to think about that either."

Stiles would say 'pass the salt,' at the dinner table (okay, chairs clustered around the kitchen counter, they didn't really have money for a dinner table yet,) and Derek would crack up from his spot right next to Stiles at their not-quite-dinner-table, bumping their shoulders together. Derek would say 'and I snapped that rubber band,' in the middle of a conversation, apropo of nothing, and Stiles would snicker and then lean forward with some gooey expression on his face and rub their noses together.

"I kind of think that they invented their own secret language or something and they're actually having coded conversations," Scott grumbles.

Allison looks thoughtful. "I could actually see Stiles doing that."

"That's not my point! I'm just saying-"

"Wait!" Allison gasps, "Important question! Who's the little spoon? Do you know?"

"Allison-"

"Just work with me Scott. I can't be there myself so I need to know all of the gossipy details from you."

Scott sighs. He can never say no to Allison. "Derek. Derek's the little spoon."

"No way!"

It had surprised Scott too. Walking into Stiles' room to see Derek asleep on Stiles' bed, face mushed into one of the batman logos on the bedspread, Scott had thought that Derek was alone, until he saw the extra hand wrapped around Derek's torso and pressed into his sternum. Stiles had been almost entirely hidden behind Derek's massive torso and chest, but there he was, cuddling the Alpha like a stuffed animal.

"That's just adorable," Allison coos. "Stiles broke the Alpha."

"Kind of," Scott muses. "I mean, apparently they're mates or something, which is a really super rare werewolf thing, like one in a million true love whatever, so yeah, Derek's brain _has_ kind of melted and he has an excuse, but... come on! I live here too!"

Allison tilts her head to the side, thinking. She's so smart. "You know, I'm pretty sure we were just as bad in high school."

"What?"

"We were being 'sickeningly cute' kind of all the time. Can't really judge Stiles and Derek for doing the same thing. Love is a heady thing."

"We weren't 'sickeningly cute' in high school!" Scott protests.

"Sure we were. Stiles was always complaining about us being really corny and cheesy and overly romantic. Actually, everyone made a little bit of a fuss about it."

"We weren't being overly romantic! When are we overly romantic?"

Allison rolls her eyes. Her pretty, pretty eyes that Scott could just get lost in...

"Scott! Scott! Were you listening to what I just said?"

"What? Sorry, I was just getting lost in your eyes again," Scott says ruefully.

"See! That!" Allison exclaims, waving a hand excitedly at the camera. "Scott, I love you, but we can be sickeningly cute too."

Scott gasps. "I just had an idea! What if its all an act that Stiles set up as payback for making him feel awkward in high school?"

Allison smiles sweetly. "It's been almost a month, baby. I don't think it's an act. Can't they just really care about each other?"

"I guess..." Scott mutters, rubbing a hand through his dark hair before perking up and glancing over his shoulder. "They're coming down the hall, I hear footsteps-"

The door flies open, revealing a grinning Stiles, hand in hand with Derek. "Allison!" Stiles crows, leaping into the view of the camera, blocking Scott's face with his own. "It has been too long, my darling!"

Allison laughs. "I missed you too Stiles."

"Hey, did you know that Scott has a stalker wall with pictures of you?"

"He does?" Allison asks, looking at Scott dubiously.

Scott blushes, and mutters something about the wall being a collage for his multimedia class.

"It's a stalker wall," Stiles stage whispers to Allison. "But don't worry, he does it out of love. Creepy, creepy obsessive love."

Scott shoves Stiles away from the camera. "Don't listen to him. Weren't you going somewhere, Stiles?"

Stiles nods, turning to Derek so he can grab both of the older man's hands. "Me and Der-Der were gonna go grab coffee. You want anything Scott?"

"Nah."

"Mkay. Guess it'll just be a caramel mocha and a vanilla macchiato for us," Stiles says, slyly flicking his eyes towards Derek.

Derek leans forward to press their foreheads together. "It's so sweet that you know my coffee order."

Stiles runs a finger across Derek's cheekbone, murmuring, "no sweeter than you, baby."

What follows next is the most horrifying display of tongue sucking that Scott has ever seen, made no less horrifying by the fact that it's his brother and his Alpha macking on each other _in the middle of his room_.

"Guys! Guys!" he hollers frantically, before his brain can get too traumatized. "Go and get your stupid coffee and a room while you're at it! Not," he amends, "the room that shares a wall with mine."

"Yeesh Scott," Stiles grumbles, detaching his mouth from Derek's, but staying mostly wrapped around him. "Thought you were being supportive."

"Let's just go, babe," Derek whispers in Stiles' ear, even though _Scott can hear him_. "Maybe we'll see about that room too."

"Bye Allison!" Stiles chirps, and hightails it out of Scott's room, Derek trailing behind him, still holding Stiles' hand.

Scott turns back to his computer screen to be greeted by the most disturbed expression he has ever seen on Allison's face.

"I think," she says slowly, "all of my teeth just rotted out of my mouth."

At least Allison is on his side.

XXXXX

Stiles locks the apartment door and he and Derek both sigh in relief.

"Man," Stiles groans, "freaking Scott out is hilarious, but it is tiring to have to keep coming up with new pet names all the time."

Derek grunts in agreement.

"Plus," Stiles adds as they enter the elevator, "I never realized how emasculating all of that cuddling would be when I came up with Super Nefarious Adorableness Plan To Make Scott Regret His Evil Ways. Not to mention how _hot _cuddling gets. It's so nice to not be overheating."

"And have some elbow room," Derek comments from where he's leaning against the opposite side of the elevator, looking all sex-on-a-stick-y.

"Tell me about it," Stiles groans. "What do you think, one more week of Plan SNAPTMSRHEW before we call it off and let Scott in on the joke?"

Derek nods, but his eyes flick off to the side. Stiles knows that look. He doesn't need werewolf lie detector senses to know that look.

"Unless you don't want to..." he ventures.

Derek coughs. "It's, uh, I wouldn't mind keeping some of the cuddling. Some!"

Stiles could just die. Embarrassed Derek. Another checkmark on the list of Rare Derek Reactions.

"I'm sure we can make that work, Der-Der."

"Don't call me Der-Der."

"Shut up, you love it and me."

Derek doesn't say anything, but he does give Stiles a peck and take his hand when they walk out of the elevator.


End file.
